Shifting Spaces
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Can you write a super fluffy fic with Eleven and Clara where the Tardis has moved Clara's bedroom again and the Doctor offers to let her sleep in his?


There were brooms stacked against the far wall, and between Clara and those brooms were piles of random parts – parts, she_ assumed_, the Doctor had picked up during his travels because, she_ absolutely knew_, he would think they could be useful later. And she might have laughed it off except… the door she stood outside had been her bedroom, or at least it had been the day he happily rushed with her trailing behind him through the corridors until he stopped at that very door.

The Doctor had pointed and had said, "Now I know we've got our schedule, but I also know things can get quite chaotic and, should you be needing one. _This_, this is your bedroom."

He had been so excited to open that door and show off that oversized room with its bookshelves and mood lighting and what Clara had thought to be at last three hundred pillows stacked randomly over the king sized bed and in corners and a massive pile atop a shaggy rug. She'd smiled and whispered, "_Doctor, I have a bedroom, in my flat_."

"_I know_," he'd whispered back, "_I just want you to know you're welcome.._. _should the need arise_"

He'd smiled so bright she blushed and nodded her thanks before they'd gone off on an adventure that left her covered in gelatinous goop and joking, "I need a shower aboard the Tardis, not a bedroom."

Now she stared at the brooms and she slumped her shoulders roughly because it had also still been her bedroom ten minutes ago when she'd gone in to shower and dress for a night's sleep in an oversized button-up red flannel shirt she'd found in the dresser. But now, after having one last chat with the Doctor about not lurching the Tardis about while she slept, _now_ – when she needed sleep more than anything else in the universe – it was a storage cupboard and her bedroom, the one he had made specifically for her, had been moved elsewhere.

Frowning, she landed a hand on the button just next to the door and she watched it swoosh shut before she closed her eyes, considering lying down on the metal flooring for a few hours. Her neck and back would ache, but she needed sleep. With a small mope of defeat, she turned back towards the console and slowly made her way towards it, knowing the Doctor would still be where she left him, smug grin thinking she'd finally given in to his requests to occasionally spend the night in.

On his Tardis.

"Doctor," she whined, watching him turn swiftly and she gestured at his long red flannel trousers and black t-shirt that hung loosely over it, "When'd you change?"

He gestured behind him, "When you left, popped out for some jammies."

"You _never_ sleep," she pointed out.

The Doctor laughed, arms flopping in front of him as his body gave a half turn in amusement. "You know I sleep, Clara – just not as often as you lazy humans."

"We're not lazy," Clara countered.

He raised his hands and turned back to the controls, "Average of eight hours a night per human. That's eight hours in a twenty four hour day. That's leaving you with sixteen hours to do things and mostly, you bombard places like _twitter_ to complain about how _tired_ you are… _sounds a bit lazy to me_."

Clara sighed and moved to his side, bumping him slightly and smirking between their outfits. They were the same pattern and she imagined he'd simply given her his top with a small smile wondering if she'd ever use it. Huffing a light laugh, she wondered whether the gesture was simply that of an overexcited friend, eager to share his belongings, or whether he took a somewhat different pleasure…

Turning away, she pushed the thought out of her mind as she traced the lines on the console and informed him, "Your Tardis has moved my bedroom."

The Doctor stopped and spat, "What?"

With a sigh, she tilted her head up to see the confused look on his face as she repeated, "Your Tardis has moved my bedroom. It's a cupboard filled with cupboard things now."

He swung the screen around and typed furiously, then poked at it before rubbing at his face, "She's moved it beside the library." He swung an arm and walked towards the corridor, muttering, "Don't know why she'd…" before his voice tapered off as Clara followed.

"Why _would_ she?" Clara questioned mockingly, before answering her own question in a hiss, "She _doesn't like_ _me_."

Smiling back at her, he shook his head as he padded along and Clara glanced down to see his feet were bare, something that struck her as painfully odd – as odd as his thin arms hanging clumsily at his sides, veins lining them in a way that had her swallowing roughly. Because without his suit he looked like a regular bloke; a regular bloke in his jammies walking her to her bedroom in what counted as his house. And he was still smirking deviously as his head hung down, hair curled over his forehead.

"Maybe you should just drop me back home," Clara suggested hesitantly.

The Doctor turned just as they reached the door and Clara could see the disappointment in his face as he gestured up with his other hand, "But we're at the door."

"Ok," she shot back nervously.

He pushed his hand onto the button outside of the door and shouted, "Voila!" as it opened and then his shoulders dropped as she sighed and he added, "That's odd."

"She doesn't like me," Clara responded, stepping up beside him to peer in at the wardrobe that hung in messes at either side of the closet.

The Doctor released a long breath as he surveyed the outfits and then he shut the door and shifted to look down at her, telling her plainly, "You can take my room," and he moved away from her, leaving her confused and just a bit shocked.

"_Doctor_," she finally called, rushing after him, catching up to ask, "You have a room?"

"_Of course I have a room_," he replied in amusement.

She nodded, "It's just, you don't _sleep_ and I imagined… I mean, isn't _the console_ sort of your room?"

The Doctor smirked at her and shook his head, "Everyone needs a room."

Her hands came up as she clarified, "But a room, _an actual bedroom_, with a bed – you have, _I mean_, you're capable of being in a room like that, _for prolonged periods of time_, without your brain sort of _exploding_?"

They rounded a corner and he laughed easily, looking down at her and the way her palms twisted together and he supplied, "Of course I have an actual bedroom, _with an actual bed_ – occasionally I have to have a lie down. Or a pass out," he muttered, face contorting slightly before he shook it away and grinned, pointing at a door coming up on their left. "_Everyone_ needs a room," he repeated as he laid his palm on the door's button.

Clara peered inside and for a moment she remained silent, and then she giggled and asked, "Doctor, is this really your bedroom?"

Turning swiftly, his mouth dropped and he released a small noise of protest before he cried out, "You've moved my bedroom!" He stepped into the pool room and declared, "And replaced it with a pool. _Why_!?"

"_She doesn't like me_," Clara told him lightly, arms crossing over her chest, "Can't have your bedroom, that's even better than my bedroom, I imagine. The fact that you offered has probably upset her."

The Doctor shook his head, "No, but, tonight I need a rest!"

Eyebrows rising, Clara explained plainly, "Then we've got two options and since I don't plan to sleep on the floor, guess there's only one…"

"Our only option," the Doctor growled, "Is re-writing the Tardis mainframe."

Clara lifted a finger, "Or, we don't let the angry Time Lord near the mainframe until he's had a good night's rest," she eyed him, "Or a bit of rest, whichever a Time Lord needs."

"She moved my bedroom!" He screeched, the words echoing slightly through the large room.

Gesturing back, Clara shouted, "She moved mine first!"

"_You don't get dibs on anger_," he barked in frustration, eyes roaming over the space.

Clara laughed, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" He questioned, gulping lightly just before she reached to grasp his hand and tug him back towards the door, watching the small grin on her lips as they exited the room and moved towards the console. The Doctor found himself suddenly aware of her bare legs and he wondered why he had assumed she would simply wear her leggings – _didn't she always have leggings_? Where he couldn't see the exact color of her calves, or the way the muscles moved as she walked, or how her toes were utterly perf…

"She can't change my _actual_ bedroom," she told him assertively.

His feet pressed into the metal and she turned, surprise on her face, mouth in a small 'o' as her hair swung around and he pulled away, "Your _actual_ bedroom, in your _actual_ flat? No."

Clara smirked and shook her head, "I have a couch." Exhaling, he laughed lightly and Clara's brow dropped, "Did you think I was…"

His hands came up as his eyes went wide, "No, _no no no_."

Eyeing him a moment, Clara straightened and then lifted a hand to point towards the console, "My flat, go get."

Clapping and rubbing his palms together, he moved past her and rushed towards the console only to find himself standing in another corridor and he frowned, hearing Clara come to a stop just behind him. He pointed back and then he pointed forward and he chuckled nervously before rushing again, this time swifter around another corner and he stopped. Clara watched him scratching at the back of his head, other hand planting itself into his waist and she closed her eyes.

"She's moved the console," she stated calmly.

His body twisted as he looked in either direction before correcting, "She's shifting the space of the corridor so we can't find the console – a defense mechanism."

Clara laughed.

"This," he began, peering at her curiously as she doubled over, hands pressing into her sides, "Clara, this isn't funny."

Nodding up at him, mouth open in a tired smile, she declared, "Oh, it actually is."

"No," he frowned, "It actually isn't."

She straightened with a sigh and stepped into him to smile up at him because there was no way she could explain to him that the Tardis was preventing her from sleeping, but it was also preventing them from sleeping together without the notion blowing his fragile Time Lord mind. With a small laugh, she stated, "You're really tall."

"You're really short," he countered with a small nervous half-turn of his body.

Pointing at a door, Clara asked, "What's in there?"

"No clue," he answered honestly, shifting towards the door and slapping his palm down heavily.

The door slid open and Clara stepped inside, smiling around at the books that seemed to go on for miles. She waved the Doctor inside and she moved knowingly through the stacks towards an open area with several armchairs and one very old and very comfortable couch and she reached up for his hand, watching him stare down at her with a curious look as she lead him towards the couch and then pushed him into it.

"What…" he began, but Clara dropped into the space next to him and she slumped to her right, punching lightly at the pillows lying against the arm before nuzzling her head into them to close her eyes. "Clara?"

She pointed, "Sleep."

"On a couch?" The Doctor questioned.

"Sleep," she repeated.

He glanced to his left and fell over lightly, lifting his legs and kicking at hers as she chuckled and he found himself stretching quickly, feet making their way into the back of her top, pushing the material up as his toes rubbed lightly against the skin of her back and he gasped, but froze. In the quiet, he could hear her giggle and then he felt her hand come around and tap at his knee and he recoiled, grimacing as she shifted to sit up and then stand, pulling the shirt back over herself with a small wiggle of her body.

Eyes pinching shut, he lamented, "I don't think we both fit."

He heard her sigh lightly and then she whispered, determined, "_Yes, we do_."

The cushion underneath him shifted with her weight and he opened his eyes as she stretched out in front of him, head landing on the pillow. Swallowing roughly at the feel of the heels of her tiny feet brushing just underneath his knees, he squirmed until he was flush with the back of the couch and he whimpered because she adjusted herself into him, flicking her hair once so it sprawled over the pillow in front of his face and tickled at his nose.

Clara smiled because she could feel the quick breaths he was taking and she asked calmly, "Could you get the throw on the back of the couch? It's a bit chilly."

He made a noise and she felt him move and then a quilt fell atop her and there was silence. "Clara," he said softly, voice barely audible just beside her ear.

"Sleep," she responded, curling her hands underneath her chin. "Please just sleep," she pleaded, because she was exhausted and didn't care that the Tardis was turning on the lights in the library or that she was making it slightly colder. "Doctor, it's alright. Sleep," Clara repeated, because he'd gone stiff behind her.

Closing her eyes, she waited, biting her bottom lip, and then slowly his body relaxed. It melted into her, his knees tucked into the back of hers, and his left arm snaked underneath her neck as his right settled over her, atop the quilt, and the breathing calmed. "Just for a while," he allowed, and she smiled, nodding before releasing a final sigh. "Like a slumber party," he added quietly, and she could hear the defeat in his voice. "Interspecies," he began before yawning, "Co-ed," he added, the pillow shifting under his attempts to get comfortable, "Slumber party."

"_Exactly like a slumber party_," she whispered back happily.

Clara smirked as his arm pulled her into him and when she turned, she could see his eyes were closed and his lips were upturned in a small smile. Shaking her head, she knew he was already off in dreamland where he was probably hugging tight to a large teddy bear, instead of herself, while walking through a carnival – it was the sort of dream she imagined he would have. Reaching down, she settled the fingers of her right hand between his and heard him chuckle softly as Clara grumbled up at the Tardis, "Night," before letting herself drift easily to sleep.


End file.
